Argenta
by BAnder54
Summary: Scott and Johnny find a bit of Murdoch's past in Argenta, and trouble, too.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just revising this old story and fixing up some of the glaring problems. Will post as I get the chapters completed. ;-)

**Argenta**

Chapter 1

Johnny sat loose in the saddle and hunched his shoulders under the short coat he was wearing. They were getting a late start on their way to Conaway. It was an odd day, sort of cool-ish in the shade where he waited for Scott but he had no doubt that the day could eventually become sultry. He eyed his brother coming out of the hacienda, throwing his saddlebags over his shoulder as Murdoch followed closely behind.

Scott looked at Johnny and raised his eyebrows. "I think we've got it, Murdoch."

"This deal is very important to the ranch, if it should fall through…"

After tying the saddlebags off and checking his cinch, Scott leaned over to snag the reins from the hitching post. "Sir, you've gone over this with us several times already."

"Wait, don't forget the letter of introduction to Petersen." He thrust an envelope towards Scott and sunk his hands into his pants pockets. "After you're through at Conaway, I'd like you stop at Argenta on the way home."

Johnny looked around. "Argenta? Murdoch, that has to be twenty miles east of where we're going."

Murdoch gave a small smile, much like a child offering his mother a frog. "More like twenty-five. I want you to check on an old friend for me while I run the Cattle Grower's Association meeting here this week. I could make it worth your while."

Johnny leaned over his saddle horn, smiling. "How much worth it?"

Murdoch stuffed his hands lower in his pockets. "Two days off."

"Make it four."

"Three, and you still have to run the herd to Tio's Creek."

Winking at Scott, Johnny held out his hand to shake. "Done."

"Who is this sort of friend and why are we checking on him…or her?" Scott asked.

"It's a him and I haven't seen Jake Mueller in close to thirty years. I heard he's having some troubles with his ranch, not exactly sure what kind but I thought you two could look into it. Mueller did me a favor a long time ago." He paused and looked directly at Scott. "Actually, he saved your mother's and my life and I feel I owe it to him."

Murdoch looked older for a moment, with the sunlight hitting his face and planing all its creases. Then he closed off again, like a shutter over a window. It took Johnny a good moment to tear his eyes away from their father and focus on his brother. Surprised didn't begin to cover it.

"That's all you're leaving us with?" Scott's voice had a quiet edge to it, yet snapped out like a cat o'nine tails.

Not a question at all and Murdoch's eyebrows lifted. Johnny found himself holding his breath a little.

"It was a long time ago, son. Water under the bridge. Go to Argenta and see if he needs help. I'm asking." And Murdoch opened the door and disappeared inside, even though Scott wasn't finished—arguing or protesting.

His brother frowned. "What our father means is that we ride and don't ask any questions."

Johnny dragged his eyes away from the closed door. "Didn't you tell me once that Murdoch is entitled to a little private life? Maybe this falls into that." He kneed Barranca and started out, yelling over his shoulder, "C'mon Scott, let's go. The quicker we get done at Conaway, the quicker we can get to Argenta."

~o~o~o~

Argenta was a tired town, almost pounded down, thought Johnny. Not very many people were out this time of day. Those few who had braved the heat stole wary glances at the two men riding down the middle of the street that effectively sliced the town in half. A weatherworn sign bobbed on rusty hinges. It proclaimed that 'Mrs. Smith's Boarding House, One Block Down', was open for business and had vacancies.

He tipped his chin towards a whitewashed storefront at the far end of town with the words "Let'er Buck" written boldly across its roof in a slash of garish red. "I figure we can get some answers in there."

Scott nodded his assent.

Unlike the town, the saloon was bustling with activity. Johnny stopped at the swinging doors and checked the room before stepping in. Someone had taken a real care with the Let'er Buck. The bar was carved oak and so large it melded with the stairs and balcony. Behind it and all the liquor bottles on the mantle, was an expensive-looking gilded mirror. His eyes tracked upwards and found, to his delight, that a painting covered half the ceiling. The curved side of a filmy-clad female in full repose made him grin.

A few cowboys were scattered around at the tables in various stages of drink and cards. Halfhearted notes were being plunked out by a grizzled old man seated before the piano. More than a few of the notes went sour as the piano player gazed up at the bar maid. She was clad in a tight outfit and stood leaning on the wall beside him urging him on with a smile.

Tamping down the bit of unease that he experienced in every new place, Johnny pushed all the way through the batwing doors, and he and Scott entered the saloon and went up to the bar.

The fat bartender shuffled up to his newest patrons, "What can I do ya for gents?"

Johnny took off his hat and slapped it down on the counter. "Two beers, and maybe some information."

"I can get ya the beer but I'm not so sure about the information. Who is it you wantin' to find?"

"Who said anything about finding someone?" Johnny countered.

The bartender slapped the full glasses down on the bar, spilling foam. "Mister, in my line of work you're either here to find someone or get drunk, and since you're only orderin' beer, it don't strike me that you're lookin' to tie one on."

Johnny threw some coins on the counter. "We're looking for someone by the name of Jake Mueller."

"He ain't here." With that, the man scuffed off to the opposite end of the bar.

Both brothers leaned on the bar and took long pulls on their brews. Scott contemplated his beer for a moment. "I'd say that went well."

"There's more than one way to skin a cat. Look." Johnny angled his head towards the mirror. Scott searched the mirror until he found one lone cowboy at a side table, staring intently at them. After draining his glass, the man stood up and went out the door, casting one last glance their way.

Johnny grabbed his beer and turned around to face the tables. "Now we wait."

"I say we wait at a table. The ride from Conaway was a long…" Scott was interrupted by loud voices to his right and the angry sound of a hand slapping skin. Piano man had latched onto the saloon girl's wrist and was trying to pull her down to his lap when she let go with a roundhouse smack to the man's cheek. The man abruptly stood and hauled back a closed fist. Scott moved neatly to intervene and closed his own hand around the man's fist. "Not today, friend."

The gentle buzz in the saloon quickly died out. Redness crept up into the man's face and he yanked his arm away. "Mind your own damn business. Louise here knows I wouldn't hurt her any." The girl dropped her eyes and absently rubbed at the mottled fingerprint marks left on her arm.

A booming female voice came from the stairs. "Why Jack, you sonuvagun! What happened to the music I was so enjoying upstairs?"

"Aw, Miss Collette, me and Louise just got into a little misunderstanding is all and then this yahoo steps in."

A short, plump woman dressed in a magenta gown with a plunging neckline descended from the stairs. Bright eyes filled with anticipation peeked out from under a thick thatch of auburn hair and generous, ruby-colored lips complemented a wide smile.

Colette's smile grew frosty when she saw the damage done to Louise's wrist and, catching the girl's eyes, she cocked her head towards the stairs. Louise took a quick glance at Scott through her lashes and scurried up. Colette wrapped a practiced arm around Jack's elbow and led him to the batwing doors, "Jack, Louise is going to take a rest right now, why don't you just come back in a little while?"

Before the man knew what had happened, he was standing outside the saloon and Colette had turned her attention to Scott and Johnny.

Johnny watched the proceedings with an alert eye. The woman looked vaguely familiar and he wondered where he had seen her before. It finally it hit him. Looking quickly to the ceiling, he confirmed it.

"That's right, cowboy, I'm her." She hooked her arm easily through Scott's and waited for Johnny to proffer his. "A fella from back east did the painting and I can always tell when a man gets clued in."

Johnny's grin broadened.

She led them to a table in the back of the saloon. "C'mon, let's have a seat," she purred at Scott. "I owe you, Handsome, for getting that rascal off my girl. Jack usually isn't that frisky or that drunk this early in the day." She signaled the bartender for more drinks.

"So where are you two boys from? Or maybe more to the point, who are you looking for?"

The men shared a look across the table and Scott spoke up, "We're here to see Jake Mueller."

She surveyed the men, her words taking on an intentional coldness. "I see. Funny, you boys don't look to me as the type to be happy being pack dogs."

"Colette!" She flinched in the chair, caught unawares by the cool, hard voice coming from behind her. "Don't you have something better to do?"

Trepidation then disgust flitted across her face before she quickly composed herself and got up from the chair. "That I do. The company was suddenly lacking anyway and now that you're here it's gone straight to hell."

The man grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "That's enough from the likes of you."

Scott was half way out of his chair when Colette waved him down. "Two saves in one day? I don't think so Handsome, this girl can take care of herself. Besides, this pup's bark is worse than his bite. I wouldn't waste my time." Throaty laughter accompanied her back to the bar.

If Johnny read the muted fury in the cowboy's face and the curled fists correctly, he could only think that Colette was due for some hard times. That was a shame because he inherently liked Colette and just as naturally distrusted the man before him. He could tell Scott felt the same way; his brother had gone quiet except for the tapping of a single finger against his beer glass.

The man spoke again. "I hear you're looking for Jake Mueller."

Johnny finally looked at him, not bothering to hide his contempt. The man was a little younger than him and his mouth had a cruel bent to it, especially now with it turned up in a snarl. What stood before him was a deadly combination of immaturity and cockiness that didn't seem to be hampered by any of the inhibitions that go along with good sense. The low slung pearl-handled forty-five looked to lie heavy on his right hip, and was well used. If the boy's actions failed to lend any authority to him, that weapon surely would.

Johnny spoke in a low, deliberately calm voice, "That's right, we're looking for Mueller and you're not him."

The man pushed back his hat and a small smile played about his lips. "Well now, I might be a Mueller. I'm Jim, Jake's my daddy and you were supposed to be here last week. He doesn't like to be kept waiting." His eyes flipped to Scott. "Keep in mind we only hired one of you, we ain't paying extra. 'Course, if you both want to stick around to share in the leavin's then that's up to you."

Scott looked at the man. "Who do you think…"

Johnny raised his hand. "Wait a minute, Scott; let's give the man a chance to speak."

"Like I was sayin', we're only gonna pay for one of you. So unless you're willin' to share the wages, then you," he looked at Scott and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, "can hit the trail."

Scott sat back in his chair and raised his eyebrows; a soft, slow smile crept across his lips as he looked at Mueller. "Can I?"

Amused, Johnny watched Scott's reaction and then met the boy's eyes with a half-smile of his own. "And those wages would be for what exactly?"

Mueller peered at Johnny, "Are you stupid, or just actin' it?"

Scott cheerfully egged the man on. "Oh no, Mr. Mueller, I believe that he just needs a bit more explanation. Why don't you enlighten him?"

"Yeah, why don't you enlighten me? If I'm gonna get paid for something I'd like to know what I have to do for it."

"What? Listen, are you Red Mangus or not?"

Johnny stared at Mueller and swallowed hard.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Jake Mueller chewed on his grey moustache as he looked out the window, his thoughts turning to the problem in Argenta. He had been quite effective in gaining control of Argenta's pitiful law enforcement and most of the town council with the exception of one holdout, Tim McIntyre. There was a time and place for precisely meted out violence and that time would soon be here. He recognized strength in his enemies and McIntyre had it in spades.

He wasn't a man overly prone to violence but he did believe that it had its purpose. Looking back, he hadn't always been so jaded about life but it had crept in over the years and curled up inside him like ivy on a fence. He preferred to get what he wanted the old fashioned way, through overselling and underbidding. That's why he hired only the best for the more active portions of his work. The best, in this case, happed to be Red Mangus and from what his son had related, the gunfighter had finally made it to town.

He was therefore surprised when his son arrived at the ranch with not one but two men. The first one had hair the same wheat color as his son's and rode ramrod straight in the saddle. The second man was as dark as the other was fair and while he fit the description of the expected gunfighter, he looked far too young to be the man.

He raised his hand and the door swung open before he made contact. Jimmy stood there, shirt untucked, bleary-eyed. Jake stared and his son lowered his eyes, stepped aside silently.

"Are you an idiot, Jimmy? That isn't Mangus."

His son looked at the two mounted men, face flushed in embarrassment. "I figured that out, Pa. They say they're here to see you anyway. Their last name is Lancer."

Mueller stilled in his tracks. He'd sent a telegram to Murdoch Lancer several weeks ago in hopes of getting him to send some men. Sending the wire on a whim, he was surprised that Murdoch had actually sent anybody; after all, he hadn't seen or talked to the man in years.

He would bet money that Lancer didn't send these men out of the goodness of his heart. No, Murdoch felt an obligation, a repayment of a debt that had been incurred so very long ago in the blackened alleyway by the docks. If there was ever a man of principle, Murdoch was him. Jake had counted on it.

He swept down off the porch. "Welcome to the Mueller ranch, gentlemen. Can I assume that Murdoch sent you?"

~o~o~o~

Scott had seen men like Mueller before, always over the broad end of a desk, a few times in the back room of a dimly-lit club.

He looked at Johnny. His brother looked disinterested, but he'd seen Johnny's mouth thin out to a bloodless line at the mention of Red Mangus back at the saloon. Whoever the man was, it didn't bode well. The fact that Mangus was somehow tied in with Mueller was still a puzzle to be figured out. "I'm Scott Lancer and this is my brother Johnny."

Smiling widely, Mueller said, "Come into the house, you're just in time for dinner. Jimmy, take care of our guests' horses."

As they dismounted, Jimmy stalked to the animals and grabbed the reins. "Fine, but then I've got things to do and we still need to talk about Mangus."

"Leave it be," Mueller ordered his son, then his voice softened, "at least for now; after all, we have guests in our home."

The evening meal was a casual affair punctuated with small talk centering on the hardships of current ranching methods and the weather. Scott realized that throughout dinner Mueller was fencing with them, asking questions but never really coming out with any personal information. He also couldn't help but notice that Mueller's son never rejoined them in the large dining room.

Shown to a well-appointed study after supper, Scott and Johnny were waved to overstuffed chairs. Large volumes of leather-bound books lined two bookcases against the far wall. Mueller's overly large desk and chair complemented the feeling of frank masculinity in the room. Scott easily envisioned deals being brokered here. Looking about the room from his chair, he spied two small frames on the fireplace mantle. Each one held a daguerreotype, the first of a woman and the second of a young girl. Side by side, they looked remarkably alike in the pictures.

Mueller spoke, his voice clipped and terse. "I see you've noticed the pictures of my wife and daughter. They've gone back east for a while. My daughter will be attending finishing school in Boston."

The rancher handed out drinks and held his own in a mock salute. "So you're the sons of the illustrious Murdoch Lancer." He looked fixedly at Scott for a few moments. "You have to be Catherine's boy. You do favor her."

Scott's eyes narrowed briefly. "You knew my mother well?"

"That I did, Scott, and she was a fine woman." His gaze swung over to take in Johnny.

Johnny dipped his head, then met his look. "Well now, I happened to come along a little later."

Mueller nodded and continued, "I knew Catherine and Murdoch from the old days. I found them on the dock of what's now called San Francisco. It was a rough hole of a town back then, the waterfront especially. I'd never met a greener man than Murdoch Lancer. Or one who was more stubborn.

"I thought that combination of stubborn inexperience was a bad one at the time but he seemed to do all right by it. Your father was driven, too, but by what I never did find out. There was a hardness about him sometimes. Said he'd heard stories about the west and knew it was the thing for him."

He faced the window, as if pulling thoughts out of the sunny day. "Catherine didn't appear to be so enthralled." He shrugged one shoulder. "A new husband and a new life didn't always join up real well and coming out west was harder back then, especially for the women. But she managed all right. She was a beautiful woman, your mother. Turned heads wherever she went."

"The love between her and Murdoch, well, you could almost feel it. When a woman like that loves a man he'll do—can do—just about anything."

Mueller turned back to the seated men and smiled broadly, "Why that slip of a woman would put up with Murdoch's bluster was beyond me. I remember things came to a head one day and your father told his wife in no uncertain terms that he was the one who 'called the tune'".

He glanced slyly over at Scott. "As I recall, he only did that once."

Scott and Johnny looked at each other and smiled.

"I take it he's still trying to call the tune?"

Scott inclined his head and spoke up, "He does try, right Johnny?"

"Scott and I do our best to let him every now and then, it makes him feel good."

Mueller barked a short laugh then rose and gazed into the crackling fire. "I was caught up in my own life by the time they started planting down roots in the San Joaquin and had lost track of them. I did hear that Murdoch had been having some troubles at his place and that Catherine had died. I was sorry for it. I've never met another woman quite like her. Ah well, we can never lose what we never had, eh?"

Scott's heart hammered big and he wondered if Murdoch had known. Before he had a chance to speak, Johnny slid from his chair and came to a quick ready stand, with his composed 'howdy' face.

"Thanks for the dinner and the history lesson, Mr. Mueller, but we need to be getting back to town for the night." Johnny said, that smile on his face pasted on like bad wallpaper.

Unsettled, Scott rose from his chair. "Yes, it's getting late."

"Nonsense, why we have rooms right here and they're all made up. I'd never hear the end of it if I was to turn Murdoch's sons away and besides, I know the boarding house in Argenta. The fleas outnumber the guests ten to one. I insist that you stay. The housekeeper can take you up as I have some business to talk over with my son. Tomorrow, I'll show you both around the ranch and possibly some areas where you might be able to help us out."

Johnny shot him a look, but Scott nodded. He did love a mystery.

And there was no less of one when he opened the door to his room and stepped inside. The housekeeper had told them the rooms belonged to Mueller's daughter and wife. His was almost stark in appearance with no vestige of a female's touch. He wondered exactly how long Mueller's family had been gone. Throwing his saddlebags down on the bed, he went to find Johnny.

Not bothering to knock, he strode into his brother's room and found it much the same as his. Johnny was standing by the window holding back one edge of the lace curtains, looking out at the grounds.

"What are we doing here, Scott?"

"We're doing what was asked of us, checking on a friend of Murdoch's."

"Yeah, well I'd say the man has all the help he needs. Take a look." He motioned to the window.

Scott peeled back the curtain and looked out. There were five mounted men in the yard and Mueller's son was outside talking to them. Several of them nodded at what was being said.

Johnny sat down on the bed. "Seem like Mueller's been stuck in the past for a while."

"I enjoyed hearing about my mother, since Murdoch isn't forthcoming with any great details. I realized when Mueller was talking that I'm older now then she ever was. I also got the impression that Mueller was quite taken with her."

"Too taken, if you ask me."

Scott nodded, felt a hitch in his belly. "I think he was in love with her."

"And Murdoch let us walk right into it."

"I don't think Murdoch knew about it, else why would he send us? He'd have come himself or not sent anybody. I wonder what Mueller's game is, though."

"Could be almost anything, but those men out there mean something."

"My grandfather had a saying for Mueller's type. He always said to follow the money. In this case, I think that's about right. Whatever is going on here, is much bigger than what Murdoch was led to believe."

Johnny fell silent, thrummed his hand against his jeans. "Scott, if this turns into something different, are you gonna feel an obligation to help Mueller, I mean since he knew your mother and all?"

He turned his attention back to the window and looked outside while considering his answer. As hard as he had tried to find any tenuous thread that connected him to his mother; he had never been fully successful. Yet the face that looked back at him in the shaving mirror was the same face in the picture frame beside it. He realized the connection he was looking for had already been found at Lancer.

Murdoch was the thread who tied them together, his mother and him. It had been uncomfortable and distasteful to have Mueller talk about her that way back in the study, but it was for Murdoch that he'd take action. After a few long moments, he dropped the curtain and said, "I'll do what needs done, no more."

Scott folded his arms and leaned a shoulder into the wall. "Now it's your turn. Who is Red Mangus?"

Johnny unpacked his few belongings, didn't bother to meet his brother's eyes. "Just a man I knew once."

"A dangerous one?"

Johnny shrugged and finally turned to Scott. "Dangerous enough. I knew Red a long time ago, in another lifetime."

"And that's it."

"That's about it. Look, Scott, I thought the man was dead and buried a long time ago so until he really shows up here, I won't know for certain."

"Could he be a danger-to you?"

Johnny smiled. "Red and me, well, we didn't exactly leave on good terms."

"What are you going to do when he does show up?"

The smile didn't quite reach Johnny's eyes anymore. "I haven't figured that out yet."

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It had been a long night; jarring thoughts of Red Mangus had bumped up from his memories and filled his head. Johnny splashed tepid water from the wash basin on his face then over bare shoulders, sending the fluid sluicing down his chest and torso. Grabbing a towel from the side rack, he dried off and inadvertently caught some threads from the cloth on the medallion he wore around his neck. Looking into the small mirror, he stroked his jaw line and chin, rubbing at the black, scratchy stubble already formed there, and figured he could wait to shave. He cocked an eyebrow when the door swung open. "You've picked up a bad habit, brother."

"I learned it from the very best."

"Who? Teresa?"

Scott smiled. "I believe she's actually second-best. Come on Johnny, get moving. Mueller said to meet him outside in a few minutes so he could show us the ranch."

"I've been thinking about that. I really don't need to see any more cows or fence lines. Why don't you go for the both of us?"

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to catch up with Jimmy to see what this whole mess is about, and find out a little bit more about Red's part in all of it."

Scott fingered the crown of his hat. "You know that Mangus could show at any time."

Johnny looked back into the mirror. "It's not like I'm going to forget that. I'll check out what the kid has to say, then meet up with you later."

He watched Scott hesitate for a moment then leave the room. Buttoning up his blue and white shirt, he finished quickly and went in search of Jimmy Mueller. He didn't have far to go, only to the corral where he found Mueller's son brushing down a well-appointed sorrel.

Jimmy nodded while continuing to brush the animal. "You just missed your brother; he and my Pa just rode out."

"You've seen one cow, you've pretty much seen 'em all; I think I'll let my brother handle the guided tour. Now this horse, though, is one fine animal."

Jimmy snickered and turned. "That it is. This one was bred right here at the ranch."

The boy's left cheek was darkly bruised with a bright red abrasion running the length of it. Johnny blew out a breath. "That's quite a shiner."

Jim immediately put a hand up to the cheek; a blush suffusing his face to the hairline. He turned back to his horse. "It's nothing. Never mind about it."

Johnny contemplated the young man for a while then leaned his elbows on the fence railing. "All right, Jimmy. Are you going to tell me what's going on here? I'm getting tired of leadin' this dance."

"I told him it wouldn't work. He expected ranch hands to show up, not you two. My Pa wrote your father for help."

"I know that, but help with what? It looks to me like you have everything you need right here."

Jim smirked, "Almost."

"Where does Red Mangus figure in to all this?"

Jim's head whipped around. "You know Mangus?"

"I might have run into him a time or two."

"Is he as fast as they say?"

Jimmy seemed a little too eager for Red to show, sort of like a boy waiting for his hero to come to town. "Maybe, is that important to you?"

The young man finished brushing the animal, unhitched it from the rail and started toward the barn. "It is for what Pa has planned. I think we can take care of things ourselves but I got overruled. Still, if he's not as fast as the rumors say then he can leave. We'll get along okay without him."

It was like pulling a calf from a bogged-up sinkhole. Jimmy was just a young kid with no sense of what he, and his father, had bought into. He watched the kid lead the horse off and the thought came to him that Argenta should be the next step in finding any useful information on the Mueller family.

He headed to the barn to collect his horse.

~o~o~o~

Johnny pulled up to the hitching post outside the Let'er Buck and dismounted. He hoped to get past Colette's sudden disfavor and get some answers. If this didn't work out then the General Store was next on the list. He pushed past the double doors and looked around the saloon. It was early yet, but there were more than a few patrons already inside, trying to beat the heat with a drink or two. He sidled up to the bar and caught the bartender's attention. "Beer."

The barkeep eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. "Still not tyin' one on, huh, Mister?"

Johnny smiled in spite of himself. "Where's Colette today?"

The bartender's eyes hardened. "She ain't here. Not after what your friend tried to do to her."

"And what friend would that be?"

"Jimmy Mueller. I saw you leave with him last night. Then he came back later and tried to teach Miss Colette a lesson in manners, at least that's what he said."

Now he knew where the kid had gotten that bruise. "Mueller's no friend of mine."

"Glad to hear it, cowboy."

That husky voice could only belong to Colette. Johnny turned and saw her standing at the far edge of the bar. Her hair was worn down today, a ginger-colored fall covering one cheek. He went to her, lightly cupped his fingers under her chin and tipped her face upwards, surveying the damage. "Mueller did this?"

She nodded, then added to the bartender, "Jonas, put away that shotgun. I don't think that…what is your name by the way, cowboy?"

"It's Johnny, Johnny Lancer."

"Like I was saying Jonas, put that weapon away, I don't believe Mr. Lancer is going to cause me any harm."

"So where's Handsome today?"

Johnny grinned. "That would be my brother, Scott, and to tell you the truth I don't know exactly where he is at the moment, but he'll show up."

"Ah good, I wouldn't want Louise to be disappointed. Why don't we sit down, have a drink and wait for him? Jonas, bring us a couple, from the good stuff, mind you. Whiskey for me, and what will you be having?"

"Tequila suits me. Lead the way."

Her rich laughter floated back to him. "I like a man who's big enough to be led by a woman."

They sat down at a back table, away from the rest of the saloon patrons. "I noticed that the Mueller kid isn't one of them," Johnny said.

Colette's flashing eyes dimmed somewhat and she pulled her hair closer to her bruised cheek. "That's the honest truth."

Johnny stayed her hand and gently brushed back her hair. "I also saw that he came away a little worse for wear."

Colette nodded, "I'm constantly amazed when beer mugs weigh so much. Lucky for me, not so lucky for Mueller. Then Joe Hardin stepped in and that was lucky for the boy because I would have put more than one mark on him, given the chance. Now Joe's in jail, beaten up all because he was looking out for me."

"What's the story on Jake Mueller?"

"You mean the head of the snake? Jimmy's mean, I'll give you that, but he's just a sucker from the main tree. Jake Mueller is the one who's directing it all, although he tends to go about it in a different way. You see, the railroad is coming through Argenta sometime in the near future and Mueller wants it all for himself. He's formed a coalition of sorts amongst the big dogs running the town and in the meantime has driven out some good people. The rest are fearful enough they're not going to cross either the old man or his boy."

"Except for Joe Hardin?"

Colette shook her head, "No. Joe's the handyman for Tim McIntyre; the only thing he's guilty of is playing cards a little too much and having a drink every now and then. He's a simple man," Colette tapped her head, "but not violent and unlike some people, he does know right from wrong."

"Tim and his wife live out of west of here. Good solid folks, but Mueller's wearing them down bit by bit. There's nothing they can pin on him, however. Joe's arrest may have turned the tables, though. I wouldn't want to be around when Tim gets his dander up. He's done a good job trying to maintain some sort of decency in Argenta but this incident may have just put the growl in the bear."

"Word in town is that Mueller has hired a gunfighter to do his work for him." She looked sheepishly at Johnny. "We kind of had the idea that you were him, at least from the poor description. When you came in looking for Jake Mueller, well, that pretty much sealed the deal and it all seemed to fit. Sorry about that."

Johnny played with the tequila glass. "Seems to be a lot of that misunderstanding goin' around."

A movement at the doors caught his eye. A man filled the entryway, stopped and looked around with a wary eye. He was wearing all black, meant to blend in, but that battered Montana Peak hat with the colorful leather band might as well have been a beacon in the night.

Red Mangus had arrived in Argenta.

~o~o~o~

Scott's eyes turned away from the vast herd of dun-colored cows he'd been watching for the last several minutes. He flipped a leg over the saddle horn and sat comfortably, one arm propped up on his knee. Johnny happened to be right in this case, one cow did look like another.

Nobody was in sight except for several cowboys off in the distance doing fence repairs. Mueller had gone to discuss something with the men and was now riding back. It was certainly a long way to make a point, which Mueller had yet to do. The older man had been peppering him with questions, trying to glean knowledge of Lancer in general and of Murdoch in particular. He'd been cagey with his answers to the man but the game was growing tiresome and his politeness was wearing thin.

The rancher emerged from the bunch of cattle he had ridden through and guided his horse to stand next to Scott's. Mueller stared at him with hard eyes, his expression bleak. "It looks like we got hit again last night. Lost a few more head of beeves." He turned to look at his men by the fence, absently stroking his moustache.

"Cattle rustlers?"

Mueller nodded. "We've taken sporadic hits throughout the last month. Every time it happens we lose a measure of fence and a few more cows to the thieves. I don't have enough men to cover every square inch of this ranch and the rustlers know it. We started out losing a few head here and there but now it's starting to escalate. I'll be square with you, I can stand to lose a few head but at the rate I'm going, there won't be a herd to round up come fall."

"Do you have any idea of who the rustlers are? What about the law in Argenta?"

"Oh, I've got a good idea of who at least one of the rustlers may be, but there's no proof of Tim McIntyre's involvement. Meanwhile, I've got good beef going to market for a few dollars a head, or to somebody's barbeque. Sheriff Brady, the law in Argenta, can't do much without any proof."

"And Red Mangus?"

Mueller looked at Scott, speculation in his eyes. "Mangus is the hired help. He's a gunfighter and is said to be the best around these parts. When your back's against the wall, you'll do anything to keep what's yours. I bet your father can tell you something about that. Sorry for the confusion yesterday at the saloon; sometimes my boy doesn't think things through but then again, your brother does bear a passing resemblance to the man.

"The raids have stepped up recently and I'm afraid that one day they'll go beyond just cattle rustling and then we'll need more help. That's the reason why I sent my wife and daughter away to Boston. I can't have them here and not be able to protect them if it should come down to it."

That reasoning rang sound with Scott. He'd heard a similar story from Murdoch, when he had asked about his mother. In the early days of Lancer, Murdoch had sent her away when land pirates threatened the ranch. Mueller had done the exact same thing in the name of safety.

There was something about the rancher and his son that just didn't sit well with him, though. By his own account Mueller was a man in trouble, but Scott was having a hard time reconciling the man with the mission. He wasn't willing to concede to what the rancher was hinting about just yet, especially since Johnny happened to know Mangus. Scott swung his leg back down and found the stirrup. "What plans do you have to stop the rustlers?"

Mueller's smile had a look of triumph to it. "Back at the house, I'll show them to you and you can tell me what you think."

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Jake Mueller sat in one of the large cushioned chairs, sipping coffee and watching young Lancer pore over the maps at his desk. The comments Scott had made were insightful and concise, something he appreciated. Catherine's boy had grown up just fine. He allowed his mind to wander back to the day he told her that he loved her. If things had been different back then, if Catherine had only given him the time of day after he pledged his desire for her…. His thoughts were interrupted by shouting from outside.

Mueller took a look out the window and frowned. It was Tim McIntyre, galloping hard into the courtyard followed by a couple of his cowboys.

A natural leader, McIntyre had almost succeeded in turning the tide against him. When Argenta was first mentioned as being a likely town for the railroad to go through, Tim was on board, as was the entire council, then things had spiraled out of control. Not getting McIntyre's full support at the outset had been Jake's first mistake. He had offered the man a split of the takings but McIntyre turned him down cold.

There was a time when he admired a man of principles but now those same principles were an impediment. It was high time that McIntyre was put out of the picture before he could garner any more support from the townspeople. This visit, though, took him by surprise. And he didn't like surprises.

Mueller stalked outside.

He stood on the porch steps looking down at the big, angry man on his horse. Scott had come outside to stand behind him. "What are you doing here McIntyre?"

"I think you know, Mueller. Or has that short chain you keep your boy on been clipped off all of a sudden? Didn't you tell your kid and the rest of your hirelings to take my man to jail?"

"You're asking for trouble."

"I know a dirty skunk when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now. Why else would you railroad Joe on trumped up charges?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"If I have to spell it out for you then I will. Joe was coming back from town last night after playing cards at the saloon. Your boy jumped him and shoved him into jail on the pretense Joe was trying to kill him. You and I both know that's a load of bull, Jake. Joe doesn't wear a pistol and couldn't fire it if he did have one. I'm warning you now, Mueller, if any more harm comes to Joe while he's in that jail, you'll have me to answer to." He looked pointedly at Scott. "And I don't care who you've hired to do your dirty work."

With that, he swung his horse around and galloped out of the yard.

Mueller nibbled on his moustache, looking at the cloud of dust McIntyre left when he rode off. He saw Jim's hand in all this. He hadn't thought to question the mark on the boy's face this morning because Jimmy was always getting into one scrape or another.

The incident forced his hand, though. Had set in motion a plan that wasn't fully thought out. He needed to do two things: try to explain this somehow to Scott, and then get into town and see about the situation at the jail.

~o~o~o~

The jail house was small and nondescript. Scott eyed the two cells situated side by side, one of them was empty and the other held an older man who had obviously been beaten not too long ago. The lone, wobbly desk in the room was occupied by a corpulent man who Scott assumed was the sheriff, since no badge could be seen.

Sheriff Seymour Brady was not tall, rather his bulk was concentrated around the middle, nipped in by a wide belt, with the excess flopping over. His unkempt appearance was coupled with a look of sweaty desperation plainly etched across his florid face. The face was emphasized by two small beady eyes, currently fixed on Jake Mueller.

The two were whispering furiously. Scott caught only a few snatches of conversation but came to the conclusion that the sheriff was unhappy about the events that had befallen his jail last night. Joe Hardin, a hired hand for the McIntyre ranch, had apparently gotten in the way between Collette and Mueller's son. Scanning the man sitting in jail, it looked like he'd paid the price for interfering, too, since the bruises were already showing. Mueller couldn't be happy with this turn of events.

Scott leaned his back against the side wall separating the sheriff's office from the actual jail cells and observed the rancher. Mueller looked angry to Scott but not outraged like he would have expected the man to be. No demands were being made for justice or due process. He seemed almost too matter of fact about the whole business.

He left the older man and Sheriff Brady arguing in the front office while he went to have a closer look at the prisoner. The handyman from McIntyre's ranch was ragged and exhausted-looking with a closed left eye, bloodied lip and two large purplish bruises along the side of his face. What he didn't look like was much of criminal. A soft drawl drew his attention and he moved closer to the cell.

"I could use some water, Mister."

Scott hastily looked around and found the water and cup, a little surprised that the prisoner hadn't been tended to properly. He filled the cup then held it through the bars to the man. Hardin heaved himself up from the cot and he noticed then that the man's right arm was contracted to his side, the hand curled in on itself and useless. The man took the cup in a shaky left hand and tried to drink, spilling most of the contents down the front of his bloodied shirt. Scott refilled the cup until the prisoner motioned that he'd had enough.

He walked out to where the two men were still talking. "Your prisoner needs tending. Is it common practice to lock a man up without seeing if he's severely injured?"

"Mister, I don't know you but I can tell you that it's not wise to stick your nose in other people's business. I take care of the prisoners here as I see fit. What else am I supposed to do with a dangerous criminal?"

"Dangerous? Sheriff, you'd better look again that man can't hold a gun, let alone try and fire one."

Sheriff Brady dropped the papers he was holding and came from around the desk. "I don't recall asking you for your opinion; exactly who are you anyway? A lawyer or something?"

Mueller quickly intervened. "Now Seymour, he's just looking out for the man's interests. This is Scott Lancer. He and his brother are both here in town, I asked them to come."

Brady gave Scott one more cursory look then went back to his desk. "Like I was saying Mr. Mueller, your boy is pressing charges and has witnesses. It looks like it's an open and shut case. Joe Hardin tried to kill your son last night."

Scott looked at Mueller again. The rancher was an enigma; he certainly wasn't the man he made himself out to be. The pieces of the puzzle hadn't fallen into place quite yet, however. He'd been willing to give Mueller the benefit of the doubt at least until they had reached the sheriff's office, but seeing the rancher's lack of reaction to his son's charges or to the prisoner's fate set him on edge and made him question again what Mueller's plans really were. He'd seen Johnny's horse tied up in front of the Let'er Buck when they rode into town, and wondered if his brother had found out any more information than he had.

~o~o~o~

Johnny watched Red from the depths of the saloon at the back table. He saw the man search the interior and knew exactly when the gunfighter felt it was safe to enter into the establishment. Red wasn't a big man but the bunched muscles under the black shirt told a story of hard living. He commanded a presence as he moved with ease and grace up to the bar counter. His longish black hair was now peppered a little with grey at the sides. The years hadn't been kind to Red, his face was lined and craggy, a permanent scowl imbedded on his bold features. He was a man that other men shunned unless they needed him for something. And Mueller apparently did need him for something. A voice at his elbow brought his attention back to Colette.

She nodded towards the man now ordering a drink at the bar. "A friend of yours?"

Johnny shook his head. "I counted him as a friend once, a long time ago."

Colette looked closely at Johnny and then to the man at the bar. "He's the gunfighter that Mueller has hired."

Johnny nodded and felt a familiar clench in the pit of his stomach. He waited for Red to scan the room again as he knew he would, and to finally recognize him. There, the merest lift of an eyebrow and that ruthless stare told Johnny all he needed to know.

Red placed his half-empty shot glass down and leaned on the counter, looking at him in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar. One hand snaked down to stroke the smooth, walnut-covered handle of his forty-five for a moment, then he brought the heavy weapon up to lay on the bar counter.

Johnny slowly stood up from the table and walked to the bar's edge. He tapped on the counter. "Tequila."

The deep, whiskey-cured voice from down the bar answered his request. "Still drinkin' that cow piss?"

Johnny kept his head down, intent on twirling his drink lightly in a circle. A slow smile made its way across his face. "Like I told the lady, it suits me," he said.

"It's been a long time, boy. I called you dead when the Rurales had hold of you."

"I'd guess not."

Red smiled into his drink. "Sounds like Madrid, must be you."

"It's Lancer now," Johnny corrected.

Red's eyebrow raised just a fraction of an inch higher. "So you went and did it, did you? Was it after Sonora?"

Johnny's eyes narrowed. Mangus and Sonora would be forever intertwined in his mind. It was one of those things that would awaken him during the middle of the night every now and then, panicked and sweating. He'd been too young and too inexperienced when he hooked up with Red.

It was a year or so after his mother's death when he'd first met the older gunfighter. Red had taken him in at a time when he had no reason to trust anyone. Then along came Sonora, and the day he thought Mangus had died, paying the ultimate price for Johnny's cowardice.

Johnny had lost something that day, too, when he'd left the gunfighter alone, bleeding on the street in that dirty town. It was on his lips to reply when the saloon doors swung open.

Standing in the middle of the doorway was Jimmy Mueller. The boy swept in like he owned the place and walked straight to the bar, the abrasion on his cheek almost glowing from exposure to the afternoon sun. Johnny watched the proceedings. Since the game was in Mueller's hands now, he'd let this one play out. He saw Colette signal to Jonas, just a slight nod of the head, but it was enough to have the bartender take his hand away from the shotgun under the bar.

Jimmy stopped just shy of the gunfighter, facing the man's back. "It's about time you showed up Mangus, you're late."

The silence was palpable. Johnny took a sip of tequila and felt the familiar burn ride down his throat, straight into his belly.

Red shot Johnny a glance. "You wanna tell me who this _hijo de puta_ is, before I put a hole in him?"

Johnny looked up from his glass with just a hint of a smile playing about lips. "Red, say hello to your new boss, Jimmy Mueller."

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Mangus turned to face Jimmy and leaned back on the counter while he re-holstered his pistol. He looked Mueller over from boot heel to hat. "I think you'd better shove off sonny, and let the men talk." The words failed to register and the boy took a step towards the man in black.

Johnny kept his eyes on the mirror. "I wouldn't do that Jimmy. Just take off like the man says."

Frustration was clearly outlined on the boy's face. He turned to look at Johnny, then back to Mangus. After a few moments, he turned on his heel and left the saloon.

Johnny spoke again, "I think he got the message."

Red picked up his drink and downed it. "Let's see if he can deliver it to his old man."

"Same Red, I see."

"Don't see a reason to change now. Let's get a table."

The two men walked over to the back table and sat. Colette brought over a bottle and glasses, her concerned eyes sending a question to Johnny. He tipped his head, telling her in effect that it would be all right. She lingered a bit longer then left to go upstairs.

Red poured himself another drink of the peppery whiskey and sat back in his chair. "Like I said, been a long time."

Johnny glanced at Red's face. He was still a tough-looking figure of a man and always had been as long as Johnny had known him. A bead of sweat trickled down his back and he felt uncomfortable, almost closed-in, as Mangus continued to stare at him.

"You got somethin' to say, boy?"

Johnny traced the scratches in the table top with an index finger, trying to delay the inevitable. "About Sonora," he began, "I thought you were dead after that bank robbery attempt. I saw you lying in the street covered in blood."

Red shook his head. "No, not dead or alive, just somewhere in between. And you left me there." He brought out a packet of tobacco and some rolling papers.

The accusation was finally laid out in the open. Johnny looked away, accepting the damning words because they were true. "I tried to tell you, robbery just ain't my style. But I hung around that bank anyway, at least until it all started. When I saw you take the bullet, I left."

Red wore a thin smile and his eyes turned flinty-blue in the darkened confines of the saloon. "I bet you were surprised to see me still alive then. There's no hard feelings, Johnny-boy. At least not now. Just be glad you weren't around when I finally woke up. Couldn't understand why you took off but you were young back then."

"Truth is, I probably would have done the same thing if you'd been lying in that street." He concentrated on pouring some tobacco onto the paper. "Might have turned out different, though, if you'd joined up with us."

Johnny shook his head. "No, we both would have been dead. Trying that bank was a stupid thing to do, even back then. You were good at a lot of things but bank robbery wasn't one of them."

"Don't know until you try. I did my best to find you afterwards. Basically wanted to wrap my hands around your scrawny neck, but you'd dropped out of sight by that time and then I heard about the Mexico deal. Thought that was the end of you. You got more lives than a cat, boy."

Johnny looked towards the doors and saw an irate Jake Mueller and his son enter the saloon. Scott followed behind them. Mueller looked a shade desperate with his mouth set in such a grim line while Jim helpfully pointed out the table where he and Red sat together. The rancher eyeballed them for a few moments, then stalked over and thrust out a hand. "Mr. Mangus?"

Red looked at the proffered hand in front of him with distaste and raised his head to glare at the man on the other end of it. "I'm here to do a job, not make friends." The gunfighter continued rolling the tobacco and after an uncomfortable few moments, Mueller withdrew his hand. Mangus fumbled for a match in his breast pocket, found it, then struck it against the table.

Speaking around the cigarette in his mouth, Red motioned towards Johnny, "Don't know why you hired me when you had Johnny Madrid under your nose all this time."

Mueller looked at Johnny in surprise.

Jimmy's voice held all the excitement of a kid finding a lollipop. "Johnny Madrid? I heard that he died somewhere in Mexico. He can't be him."

Red shrugged and blew out a thin stream of blue smoke. "Take a look for yourself, kid, he's sitting right here next to me. Johnny Madrid, the second fastest gun still alive. I should know, we were partners once."

A deep voice rose above all the rest. "It's Johnny Lancer."

Red's eyes narrowed at the intrusion and he looked at Scott. "Looks like someone else has your back, now, Johnny. Who is he?"

"My brother."

"He don't look like much."

"I wouldn't underestimate him."

Red contemplated Scott for a few moments until Mueller started to talk again.

"Since you so eloquently put it that you're here for a job, I'll expect to see you at my ranch tomorrow morning."

Grabbing his son by the arm, Mueller hauled him out of the saloon.

Johnny watched them leave then eyed Scott, who was standing by the table with his arms crossed. His brother's face was unreadable except for that tightness around the jaw line. It always gave him away. And it looked like Scott was working himself up to a real bad temper.

Johnny got up from the table and lightly punched him on the arm. He jerked his head towards the saloon's bar. "I'll buy you a drink, brother. Looks like you could use one." Wrapping an arm around Scott's shoulders, Johnny pulled him away from the table.

"You were partners with Red Mangus?"

"It was a long time ago, Scott. Like I said before, a lifetime ago."

"So what are you doing now, Johnny?"

"Just having a few drinks with an old acquaintance is all."

"You think that's wise?"

"Keep your enemies close and all that." He worried the beads at his wrist. "Red and I go back a long ways, nothing is going to happen. I just need to make sure that we're square on some things. I'll tell you about it later."

Scott looked back at Mangus for a few moments then slapped his gloves against one hand. He turned back to Johnny. "It's your funeral, brother, but try not to make it tonight; it's been a long day already."

Johnny dipped his head and smiled.

"By the way, we'll be staying in town. I'll get a room at the boarding house so when you're done renewing your friendship, I'll be there. We have some things to discuss about Jake Mueller." Taking one more look around Scott walked out of the bar.

Johnny went back to the table. Red chuckled, "That's some brother, Johnny. Where'd you find him anyway?"

"He's a good man, Red."

"Didn't say he wasn't, just not the type I thought you would have joined up with."

"Neither did I, at first, but it's worked out. You need to know that I'd be real put out if my brother was to get hurt in any way."

"So it's that way, huh?"

Johnny's voice challenged back. "It's that way."

"Then you better make sure that he stays away from Argenta in the next few days or so because there's gonna be a lot of ways for him to get hurt. And if I were you, I'd be taking some of that same advice Johnny-boy, and skedaddle out of this town."

"Robbery didn't work out so you're back to gunfighting?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I really ever left it. Except for that botched bank raid, it's been good to me. It's fine money for short work, you know that." The older man's eyes latched on to Johnny's. "We had some good days before Sonora, didn't we? Too bad it all had to end. You know I had some high hopes for you Johnny, but I never really figured on you lasting as a gunfighter. You had the skill but not the guts to keep going at it for too long."

Red fingered the almost empty whiskey bottle and signaled the bartender for another. He stabbed out the cigarette on the scarred table. "What I'm saying is, don't cross me Johnny, not here. We did have some high times but things are different now. The way I see it, this is just a job and I'll get it done for the right price no matter who gets in the way. Your brother…or you. Entiendas, amigo?"

"Yeah, Red, I understand. No matter how many innocent people get in the way, it's just business."

"Sometimes it does go with the territory. Now let's get down to some serious drinking."

~o~o~o~

Mrs. Smith's boarding house was closed up and dark by the time Johnny finally found it. The directions had been clear enough, too bad his head wasn't. Routing the owner of the house out of bed, he was surprised when it wasn't Mrs. Smith but rather a Mr. Jenkins who met his loud knocks on the front door with a dark scowl. Jenkins pointed a thumb in the general direction of the stairs and told him that the room that Scott had let was on the left. Grumbling, the inn keeper departed back to his own bed, leaving Johnny standing in the dark entryway contemplating the tall, narrow stairs.

Making it up the stairs without too much fuss, he looked to his left. He blew out a silent breath and wavered towards the door, reaching for and fumbling with the knob. The door opened partway when he heard the loud metallic click of a Colt hammer being pulled back.

Johnny peered inside the room and saw the first empty bed. Looking to the second bed, he spotted a glint of silvery moonlight from the window bouncing off cold steel in the Scott's hand. He grinned. "Hey, it's only me."

The pistol was turned away from the door and uncocked. "Johnny. What time is it, anyway?"

"Oh, 'bout midnight I suppose, maybe a little after."

"You're in early."

Johnny gave up a low snort. "Yeah. You know you're pretty slick with that handgun, brother."

"Seems like it might be a good skill to have around here." Scott returned the pistol to his holster by the headboard and turned to face the window, punching the pillow under his head and hitching the blanket up higher on his bare chest. Johnny let his boots hit the floor, then his shirt and pants followed.

"Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened with Mangus tonight?"

He had matched Red drink for drink as they had talked. It had brought back memories of a better time between the two men, before Sonora, but he wouldn't make the mistake of believing that Red could write off what had happened in that dusty border town.

"I've had way too much to drink tonight to be talking about Red Mangus. Found out about Mueller, though. Seems he's not exactly an upstanding citizen of the town. Or that son of his." He chuckled softly, "You should have seen the look on Red's face when I told him that Jimmy Mueller was his boss. I thought he was going to shoot the kid then and there."

Johnny pulled back the covers and got into bed, the springs creaking the second he put weight on them. "I'll tell you one thing, we need to get the hell out of this town. There's gonna be some bad things happening real soon. Mueller's importing gunmen and Mangus is just the first. "

Scott turned back over and rose up on one elbow. "So we're just supposed to leave town and forget about it? Let the people of Argenta try and stand up against Mueller and his hired guns?

"They can leave, just the same as us, which is what we need to do tomorrow morning." Johnny rolled over and drew the covers up to his neck, ending the conversation.

tbc


End file.
